An Anomaly in Orbit
by MessengerOfDreams
Summary: In the background of the chaos of the events of Super Mario Galaxy, two wallflowers bloom and grow together. RosalinaxLuigi, Rosalina POV


**I think Rosalina/Luigi is creeping up to become my OTP.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, regret nothing and let them forget nothing.**

How did you find me?

I never saw you coming, although it's hard to see clearly from a castle in the stars. I didn't expect you in the slightest until I found you. It was strange how many times I saw you until I was surprised at how different you were from the crowds. So much sameness, so much gray, and then...

...an anomaly.

You are unique. They say everyone is unique in some way, but you are unique in every way. You are alien to our kind, and you are extraordinary for it.

They call me an alien, because I live in a world that they do not, but I believe it goes further than that. Every century, I am allowed back home for just one year, and I am reminded of how different I am from all of those who look like me. I don't know what it's like to be human. It's a life I was not blessed to have. Others call me a deity, the mistress of the stars. That's too grand a title to bestow on someone like me. I'm just a lonely woman trapped in a little slice of the heavens that I'm too afraid to become ungrateful too.

It is wonderful here, but I don't remember the last time I've seen anything else other than the stars that I've been blessed to mother. Sometimes, my steps on the stone ground of my observatory seems shallow and weightless, as if it's not real, and I realize I'm in the middle of nowhere. That's when I miss home the most. But sometimes there's a spring in my step and every single inch of my home amazes me, and I'd not trade it for my old world. During those times, the sadness dissipates because I remember what I'm capable of, and leap into it with a passion.

During those moments, I remember that I'm surrounded by miracles that I can raise to be constellations. At those other moments, though, I miss the life I barely remember I once had.

Then you came along, and you spun my small world upside down.

They call me the anomaly, and yet I've never heard of anyone like you.

I've heard tales of Mario, the echoes of majestic praise for an unlikely hero, and I can't say I was surprised that he would show up on my observatory deck. What surprised me is that you appeared and brought the winds of change through my eternal life. I'm surprised I've never heard of you before; was that the extent of your brother's legend? It's a shame that while the abilities to save the galaxies and embark on adventures are embraced, the ability to speak insightfully and listen thoughtfully are ignored.

Am I the only one who finds your presence a miracle?

People don't seem to notice what they are in the presence of. They pass you by, regard you as normal, or even as nonexistent. When the toads show up, you help them to fix their ship, yet they only engage you in small talk. Your brother will talk to you about the next place he is needed, and you formulate game plans, but then he is gone, as if he was never here. Perhaps it's just the state of the battle against Bowser and what we run the risk of losing, yet as far as I see it, you are just there to them. I look at you, a stellar figure before the endless, familiar space I know far too well, and I wonder what I see that no one else can see.

Perhaps it is fair trade. Perhaps since you've noticed me, I've noticed you. As different people run along the paths of my humble home, you remain after the dust has settled, and it seems to comfort you as much as it does me. We distract ourselves from the grim possibilities by taking slower steps where others hustle and scramble, and I can enjoy the stars I used to take for granted. We talk about anything and everything, yet we even talk about nothing at all. Sometimes I stare into the stars because I fear losing all that I've given up to bring to the universe, and you squeeze my hand to remind me that we're still here for now. You remind me that I'm alive, that I'm happy and that I'm scared, and I realize that being scared means that I have something to care for.

Your way with words is stunning, your stream of thought running uncensored through the air like a radio signal. You string together words as clear as your reflection, and I can see the same thing in both. Eloquence is such an alluring trait to me. People who know how to speak with finesse know what they're speaking about, and know the implications of what they say have always made my heart leap. I am so well read; after all, I've had the time to learn. Yet, it is so much different to put those words to use and find that they have meaning.

When you spoke, I listened, and I was more than eager to speak back. I was surprised at how dynamic our conversations got, how much gusto and passion leapt from every word, our voices fluctuating through so many colors. It was enough to make me forget that no one else spoke to us the way we spoke to each other.

I'm glad that I know you. I'm glad you crash-landed on the surface my observatory, even though you demolished my flowerbeds. I'm glad I found you along the walls and hidden in the corridors of the places I took for granted. I'm glad you noticed me. I'm glad that you stayed when I talked to you. I'm glad that you've been here for me when your brother is looking out for everyone else. I'm glad that even as your brother brings the power stars back to me, you're the one who has brought life back into the Comet Observatory.

Throughout the madness, the danger, the risk and the scrambling of countless footsteps within a single span of time, we remain in the background as the wallflowers, not sure what else to do but be there for others and each other. Perhaps that's what we were meant to be, the wallflowers. And wallflowers always bloom healthily in pairs.

What others see as background objects I see as familiarity. Familiarity used to be such a curse, yet now it's comforting. The stars are my blanket, the observatory my refuge. You're just the spice of new I needed, and that's just as comforting because I know I'm not the only one out here. We may be other peoples' background objects, but I don't notice them as much as I do you. Sometimes I read your body language, see the wandering gaze in your eyes and dwell on the way you squeeze my hand, and I wonder if I am to you what you are to me; a companion within the shadows.

I can see vividly in my mind how much you'd light up when you spoke of your adventures, describing your close encounters with death with inordinate amounts of life. How you'd laugh at your own memories when you described the kart tournaments the city would put together, recounting with mirth every banana peel slipped on and every lead stolen, making your bronze medal sound like an accomplishment for the ages. Even more poignant are the moments you talk about away from the public eye that only halfway notices you. When your voice lowers as you tell me things you've never told anyone else, I feel a heaviness in my heart, or is it an increase in strength? You inspire so much when you speak and you trust me so much that you've opened me up like one of the dusty books within my library. I've told you everything I knew and all that I am; it didn't take long. Yet, somehow I have faith in the fact that I can trust you as much as you can trust me.

You tell me sometimes of the places you've been. You speak dismissively of them, seeing them as mere stops on a larger journey. It's one of the few times that you dim, your passion subdued. I don't know why you speak lightly of them, as if you don't care or would like to forget. You speak of places I forget or have never seen, and you're surprised when I ask you to describe them for me.

You don't seem to understand that I envy you.

I envy the fact that you have the fields you can lie in, the ground beneath you solid and sure. I long for the feeling of speeding down an open highway in a car; so mundane to you, a completely new experience to me. I'd even settle for walking down the city streets and browsing through the fruit markets in the park. Experiences so normal to you are as fantastical to me as the galaxy is to humans like you. When you and I sit atop the spire of the observatory, the awe I see echoed through your eyes is the kind that echoes through my mind when you describe the world I once lived in to me.

You know of my life; my travels are a journey with no destination, and I never know where I'm going, but some of the places I've been are exhilarating and gorgeous. They make me forget about the endlessness, the repetition and the eternal cycle my immortality often falls into.

You are fascinated at what I see. When I tell you about where I've been, you truly become alive. No longer are you the standout wallflower. My stars are in your eyes and the heavens are the limit. You are radiant, as radiant as the Lumas I consider my children.

I see you, every ounce of potential fully unlocked, and I truly see you, the way no one else has. It's an amazing sight. I wish I could possess the wonder and hope you have when I tell you the tales I lived, because they weren't always as fun to live as they are to tell.

You ask me to take you across the galaxies someday, when we are not in a time of war. It's the distant dream we both cling to, because we're dreamers, and what is our life without a dream? How I'd love to take you through the galaxies, every fluctuation and turn, every constellation, every asteroid field, every single color and wonder that I've seen. I want to show you every anomaly in the universe and show you that none of them are quite as unique as you.

But when the first day of the turn of my century hits, show me your world in return.

I've exchanged what seems like millions of words with you in our short time, yet I still don't quite understand who you are. Perhaps that's not true. I know who you are, what you've seen, what you've fought, what you love and what you are capable of. But I still don't know how.

In that hundredth year, I have until the first day until the last to roam the Earth. This time, I won't be alone. So take me as I am, and take me to where you were.

Take me through the fields, my friend. Show me how the stars look from within their depths; how different they must be from afar. Drag me, running and screaming, across the train tracks. Lead me by the hand through the town you were born in, as beige and unremarkable as it may be. Let's traverse mountaintops you've climbed, the deserts you've trekked through and the oceans you've sailed through. Take me through the cities you've thrived in and the ones you barely kept your soul through. I want to dance through gardens, run through the valleys, stare in awe at the birds as they fly away. I want to let my hair and my guard down, find my true colors, and embrace who I truly am as much as I want to embrace you.

A year seems so long, but it'll never be long enough to get all that I want out of it. I don't want to lose a single day. The very thought fills me with such a swelling excitement that I finally have something new to look forward to.

Let me into your world. Let me see what you see. Let me trace your story, find out how you became the stellar being you are today.

You always speak of home with disregard and resignation, yet the peace and quiet within the plains within the Mushroom Kingdom is one I envy. We always seem to want what we don't have, don't we? I don't need to stay. I just need a moment where you and I are the only two people within miles. Can wallflowers bloom best within the dead cornfields, retired after another harvest? I think we can manage.

There are anomalies both on Earth and in space.

An enigma is not simply born. He is built, growing in his own corner of the world where he finds his own calling and unravels the code on the seed of a wallflower somewhere within his heart. Somehow, even in a crowd of thousands, he shines brighter than them all, and somehow, in a crowd of thousands...

...he finds me.

To this day I still wonder how I was ever so lucky, so promise me one day you will show me how you got there. Even if your road was not as luminous as you, it still brought you to me. Perhaps if I take that path, I'll get closer to you. Perhaps if you take it with me, I'll finally have someone, even if only for a year.

Wallflowers always bloom healthily in pairs, after all.


End file.
